Back Roads
by Kansas J. Miller
Summary: Post "Proximity" series. I suggest you read that first. CJ and Carol continue their relationship [Slash Warning]
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Back Roads  
  
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller  
  
PAIRING: CJ/Carol  
  
RATING: R  
  
SUMMARY: I had just made a monumentally big mistake; the level of respect I would now command from my mother had dropped to zero.  
  
SPOILERS: None, but planned through the end of the 3rd season  
  
DISCLAIMER: If you see them on weekly television, then clearly they are not mine G  
  
  
  
***  
  
The rain pounded down on the roof of CJ's apartment, especially loud for the partially opened windows. Blinding lightening flashed periodically, warning us that another crash and clap was imminent. As the curtains fluttered around, warm and damp April wind blew over our nude bodies.  
  
CJ had been asleep when the first burst of thunder arrived in the sky, and her wakening was a jolt against my body. It was 5:46 and I had been lying sleepless for quite some time, in happy disbelief that CJ allowed me so close. And God, was she close with her face buried in the crook of my neck, arm around my waist…I never thought that CJ would be so soft, but her skin was infinitely smooth; I didn't think I could ever tire of feeling her in my arms.  
  
"What's wrong?" I whispered after she jerked at the sharp, forceful boom of thunder. A bit sleep-dazed, CJ sat up and looked with confusion at the windows, and then at me. She took a deep breath and I watched as she collected her bearings.  
  
"I hate thunder," CJ admitted in a soft voice, her tousled hair falling into her eyes. She hugged her body, and I reached out to pull her back to me.  
  
"Why?" I asked, raking my fingers gently down her bare back. She shivered noticeably, whether from my touch or the thunder, I was not sure.  
  
"It sounds like gunshots," she said after a long pause; CJ's head on my chest muffled her voice, but I could hear aversion to the topic in her tone. I said nothing, as what had happened at Rosslyn was a closed subject to me as well. I had never been able to gauge how deeply it affected CJ, but she seemed strong. I'm sure it actually was hard for her and if thunder sounded like gunfire…  
  
Shuddering, I slipped out from under CJ's body and carefully closed the windows. As the curtains billowed and fell for the last time, I returned to her thoughtful gaze.  
  
"Now you won't be able to hear it so well," I said, forcing a small smile. The assassination attempt was the last thing I wanted to think about when I was in CJ's bed. As I lay on my back, stretching the sleep out of my body, CJ put her palm on my stomach.  
  
"I'll always be able to hear it," she whispered, placing a soft kiss on my temple. "But it was a good idea anyway," she added, arriving at my ear.  
  
I twisted my head so I could see CJ's face, capturing her lips by accident. This was just insane, I randomly thought, realizing with both disgust and satisfaction that she was perfect. Just her throaty voice in my ear was enough to send a wave of emotion over my body; she sent my heart rate to dangerous levels simply by looking at me.  
  
"Carol…" she murmured into the dim room, watching through heavy lids as my fingers found her small breasts.  
  
"Hmm?" I answered with a hum, my hands dancing downwards. I could already feel CJ's body react as I pressed two fingers against her center.  
  
"Oh…." she breathed out, forgetting whatever it was she'd wanted to say. As my mind adjusted to the feeling of her lips against my neck and her hands on my breasts, I sighed happily. "You can't just do that, you know, " she decided, a bit incoherently.  
  
I chuckled, raining kisses over her face. "It's not my fault you're so damn irresistible."  
  
"It's probably the other way around," she moaned, her tone rising as I circled her clit slowly. Her hands on my breasts fell slack as she tensed up at the feeling.  
  
"I'll have to agree with you," I smiled with a tease as I sped up the movement of my fingers.  
  
CJ laughed, her tone quickly turning serious. "Shit, Carol…had I known you could do this…"  
  
"What?" I prodded, moving my mouth down her body while leaving my fingers in contact with her moist center.  
  
"I don't know," she murmured, turning her head to the side as I placed a kiss over her mound. "Maybe it wouldn't have taken me so long to decide that you were… God, Carol…" CJ cried softly, reacting to my tongue on her clit.  
  
"I'm not God," I mumbled with a grin against her slickness, "But other titles…I'll take 'em…"  
  
I heard CJ breath out and then gasp sharply as I licked up the length of her folds. "No, I meant that it might not have taken me so long to decide I wanted you…" she managed in one breath, her smooth thigh trembling a bit at the suction from my lips.  
  
I picked my head up, stopping in amusement. "What, you wanted me to send a memo? 'Note to Press Secretary: Carol gives good head'?"  
  
CJ's laughter was ringing, and the gentle feeling of her fingers in my hair was innocently sweet. "I can't make sense when you're doing that," she admitted, her body arching towards me. "Carol, please…." She moaned then, aching for a release.  
  
I couldn't get enough of CJ; she tasted so sweet, and the apparent power I had over her body sent me in dizzy circles. As I increased the speed of my tongue, CJ's cries grew louder and more desperate. Finally with a crash louder than the thunder that had awakened her, she fell over the edge.  
  
As CJ breathed heavily, coming down from her climax, she reached for my waist. I sat up instead, brushing her arm away.  
  
"What's the matter?" She asked, a bit of concern in her eyes. I smiled lazily and held her errant hand in mine.  
  
"I'll take rain check…" I smiled as CJ curled up close to me. "We have to get up soon, anyway."  
  
CJ sighed contentedly while I played with her fingers, and as the rain continued to fall from the sky, she fell into a shallow doze.  
  
***  
  
It rained all day long, and the halls of the West Wing were shadowy gray; CJ was in meeting after meeting with Leo, Josh, Toby and Sam, so I was otherwise unoccupied all afternoon.  
  
The phone rang around noon, jolting me out of the quasi-nap I was slipping into.  
  
"CJ Cregg's office…" I answered, getting a pencil and pad ready for a message.  
  
"Carol?" the voice on the other end of the line deflated my shoulders; my mother was the last person I wanted to hear from.  
  
"Hi…" I forced out in a cheerful tone and began thinking of excuses to cut the call short.  
  
"Carol, I called your apartment for hours last night. Where were you?" she crooned, her tone insinuating. I smirked without thinking.  
  
"Well, I'm actually going to be 27 in a month, so I'm sure it's not really your business, Mom…" I shot, chucking the pencil onto the desk.  
  
"No need to get defensive. I was annoyed that I couldn't reach you, but then I figured—hoped that you were out finding a husband…" my mother laughed, clearing her throat with a self-indulgent joy that boiled my blood.  
  
Rolling my eyes, I felt my throat close up. "Mom. I'm never going to be looking for a husband. I don't like men," I said, my voice dripping. She could read what she wanted from that.  
  
"Why not?" my mother responded after a pause. I could practically hear her frown over the din of the hospital chatter in the background.  
  
"Because, Mother," I slipped attitude into my voice. "I'd rather take the back roads to happiness instead of chasing a man. I'm not like everyone else."  
  
"Oh, Carol…" my mother sighed. "You just haven't met the right guy yet!"  
  
I wanted to slam the phone down, or maybe bang on the window, but I simply gritted my teeth and held off. Clearly my mother couldn't infer to save her life.  
  
"Mom, let me get this out in the open…I am a lesbian," I pronounced every syllable, mustering up as much courage as I could possibly find. Having said the words, I allowed myself to take a breath.  
  
My stomach turned at the silence on the other end of the line, and fear turned to panic as I realized what I'd done.  
  
"I can't…Carol, no. Don't tell me things like that…." My mother stuttered, unnerved. "I'm gonna…I can't…I have to go, Carol…."  
  
With that, the phone clicked sharply, leaving my pounding heart ringing in my ears. Balling up my hands, I watched as my knuckles turned white. What had I been thinking? Telling my mother that I was gay would never get her off of my back. My mouth wouldn't close as I stared helplessly at the clean white of my desk blotter; hot tears threatened my eyes and I fought an urge to punch the wall.  
  
I had just made a monumentally big mistake; the level of respect I would now command from my mother had dropped to zero. She'd only be angry, disappointed, disgusted…and when the rest of my family found out…The torture that coursed through my chest was enough to strangle away the happiness I'd felt this morning.  
  
My anger quickly turned to bursting self-pity. As a blackened tear hit the desk, I felt a hand sliding over my back. Jerking my head up I looked into CJ's face. She leaned over me, and removed her glasses before speaking.  
  
"Carol, what's wrong?" she asked quietly, narrowing her eyebrows in concern.  
  
With the tight pain of my mother's hang up echoing in my mind, I could only sniffle in response. The look of question and caring on CJ's face broke my heart even more, and she turned her head down the hallway quickly, checking to see who was around. Yes, I thought bitterly, we wouldn't want anyone to see mousy Carol crying….  
  
My brain screamed why, why, why…over and over again, why did I have to be what I was? Why, why, why did I have to be so in love with CJ? As she took my elbow and ushered me into the office more tears found their way onto my face, and soon I allowed the sobbing to overtake my body.  
  
With the door shut firmly, CJ gently gathered my body to hers as we found the sofa. I cried into her black-suited shoulder, wondering if I would ever be able to go back home, back to Nashua, back to my mother. * 


	2. Find Her

TITLE: Back Roads: Find Her  
  
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller  
  
PAIRING: CJ/Carol  
  
RATING: PG  
  
SUMMARY: I didn't want to believe that my brave CJ was really just a front…  
  
SPOILERS: None, but as soon as we get new episodes you can count on it!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. Aaron Sorkin does, and we all know his brain is not on THIS wavelength!  
  
  
  
***  
  
I was almost there. I could see it— but the edge of a peaceful, drifting sleep was just outside my reach. Maybe in a few more minutes, I would grasp the beautiful dream, the respite from worry. It was so otherworldly, and yet I was aware of being in my apartment. Vaguely, I could hear the murmuring television. The fingers in my hair were distinctly soothing.  
  
My head was in CJ's lap, and my feet were curled up against my body and the back of the sofa. I chastised myself—thinking was keeping me from the sleep I so desperately longed for.  
  
Suddenly the dreaded panic hit me again. My mother. She knew. She hated me. She was angry, hurt, disgusted, and so many other nameless things. And there was nothing I could do to change it. Her daughter was a lesbian, and yes, the world had ended. Bitter sarcasm shot through my brain and jolted me once and for all out of the floating, sleepy wonder.  
  
"Shit. I thought I finally had you asleep," CJ commented, smiling at me as my head popped up. Her fingers remained in my hair as I pulled myself to a sitting position.  
  
"You almost did," I frowned, feeling nausea take over my body. CJ ran her fingers through my hair one last time, letting them fall to my shoulders.  
  
"Carol, don't look so sad," she said quietly, gently coaxing me forward into her embrace.  
  
I had cried for too long only hours before, and now as I rested my chin on CJ's shoulder, only a dry burn remained in my eyes. "I wish I were like you," I murmured, threading my arms around CJ's back.  
  
She pulled her head back, grabbing my attention. Her eyes were tired but firm, and I knew I'd said the wrong thing. "And I wish you'd stop saying that. You've always tried to be like me and I don't get it."  
  
"Oh, CJ…" I sighed, lying my head back down. "Nothing bothers you, nothing fazes you, you can fix anything, deal with anything…I'm sure if you told your mother that you were a lesbian—and she hung up on you—I'll bet you'd be past it in a second."  
  
CJ was silent, her sigh sharp in my ear. She waited so long to speak that by the time her voice filled the room again, it had jolted me out of a slow doze.  
  
"Carol, the entire problem with that theory is that you categorize me as emotionless. And I might hide my feelings well.... But please don't think that I'm blind to what you're going through."  
  
"Are you?" I asked meekly, slightly embarrassed. Still, CJ's arms were tight around me and I felt completely and utterly safe that way.  
  
"No," she whispered, and I suddenly realized that her emotions were as she'd said. Hidden. Hidden from everyone, including me. Me! The one who cared about her to the point of obsession, who wanted to know everything but couldn't fight quite hard enough to find out…  
  
The roar of a plane overhead invaded my thoughts. Hundreds of planes flew into National Airport each day, bringing more people to Washington. And planes flew out each night, moving them away from here…and I was reminded of my mother in New Hampshire, likely crying and brooding. She was so far, yet so near, and now I had lost a piece of myself in that expanse of time and space.  
  
Before CJ could close her eyes I saw them glaze over with her own unshed tears; and then she was blinking and looking away, the truth gone back into its shell.  
  
"CJ. I want to know," I said, my voice choked with feeling as I fought to ignore the tumultuous undulation of emotion coursing through me. "I want to know everything."  
  
She'd put her game face back on, and even with her hair blowing softly with the window's breeze, CJ was the picture of collection. She was always put together, and I suddenly hated her for it. "It's nothing," CJ said, blasé. She shook her head, watching me. "I'm worried about you right now."  
  
I think I may have snorted, insensitive though it was. "Come on, CJ. If you went through anything like this…." I trailed, wondering if perhaps I was assuming too much.  
  
The look on her face was affirmation that there were demons beyond the surface; she was afraid of them and the instant of truth that I saw flash across CJ's expression worried me. "It's a long story, Carol, I can't talk about it now."  
  
"Yes, you can. You can talk to me…" I assured her, grasping CJ's forearm as her distraught mood intensified. She sighed heavily, biting her lip and keeping her eyes downcast. When she spoke her voice was kind but firm, as though she was struggling to keep out reality.  
  
"I've heard your trauma all night," she smiled, tugging on my hand, "I don't think you need any of mine."  
  
CJ meant that we'd come to the end of the conversation, that the topic was closed. I nodded, innately knowing that she'd never tell me the story, knowing that I'd never find her. And I wanted to find her, because the real CJ was hid underneath—I'd never seen her. That much had become increasingly clear to me in the past minutes.  
  
I laid my head down on her lap again, allowing myself to relax. CJ was as afraid as I was, I groggily thought. She couldn't be afraid of who she was…it didn't seem possible, and I didn't want to believe that my brave CJ was really just a front.  
  
I wondered if someone had hurt her; maybe there were hundreds of little hurts out there. And maybe her own mother was one of them…but when I woke up some time later, CJ was gone. There was a little note on the pillow by my head that read: Had to go @ midnight. Hope you slept well. Love, CJ.  
  
I sat up clutching the note, my throat closing up. No, I hadn't slept well, and it was dark and cold in the apartment and I was alone thinking about what CJ might've gone through. And yet, there she was, everyday completely pulled together, full of good sense and composure. Or pretending… Damn, I cursed silently, why can't life be easy? Why can't I let things go…Why can't I be more like CJ?  
  
As another airplane flew into the airport, and the breeze from the open window grew colder, it hit me like a rock. CJ hadn't told me her story for a reason. She didn't want me to find her. She wanted me to find me. * 


	3. Expect That

TITLE: Back Roads: Expect That  
  
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller  
  
PAIRING: CJ/Carol  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
SUMMARY: "Focus instead on this: you're a beautiful little girl who has someone right here, who wants you and loves you."  
  
SPOILERS: None, really, but I'm trying to allude to this week's coming episode ("Enemies Foreign and Domestic"). Hoping it works, otherwise, I'll go crawl in a hole.  
  
DISCLAIMER: So not mine.  
  
  
  
***  
  
"Gail is beginning to outsmart me," I offered in explanation for my lateness. Gingerly, I set down the fish bowl—with its new, clean water—on CJ's desk. She looked up from her laptop, over her tortoise shell glasses with amusement.  
  
"So you're saying that my fish is smarter than my assistant?" she asked wryly, her glossy lips curling up into a smile. Gail was swimming around happily now, flicking her long orange tail fin back and forth.  
  
It was slightly irksome that CJ had so deliberately called me her assistant, but I shrugged and played along. "Well, it took me a good five minutes to catch her in the net, so…"  
  
CJ chuckled at me, and shaking her head, moved on. "Within the hour I need you to get me the most recent poll on Alaskan drilling, and I need to see Ainsley Hayes as soon as possible."  
  
I nodded and turned to leave the office, feeling again the discomfort at CJ's ultra-professional attitude. It had been bothering me for the past week or so; in the office CJ hardly offered me any indication that we were more than boss/assistant. We were even more than friends…but I knew I was wrong to expect anything more than CJ's intensely serious work demeanor. It was even selfish of me to expect her to acknowledge our relationship at work, but it was eerily cold how she could disregard it so easily. I, on the other hand, could hardly lay eyes on CJ without grinning or blushing.  
  
Shaking my head, I turned my attention to finding what CJ needed. As I paged through the computer data, searching for the weekly poll, my mind wandered back to CJ's personality.  
  
It had been an entire week since the night in my apartment and she still hadn't opened up to me on a deeper level, she wasn't telling me things; she was hiding herself. I was also afraid to ask, afraid to bring up anything too personal—but I knew that I couldn't go on not knowing what was behind CJ's façade. It had to be within my reach…  
  
I had just finished paging Ainsley Hayes when the phone rang. Finding the poll marked April 24th I clicked the printer icon on my computer screen, and reached for the receiver. What a job, what a boss, I thought sarcastically as the computer paper began to file out.  
  
***  
  
"CJ, security needs you to move your car," I announced, stilling her moving fingers on the laptop keys.  
  
"Why?" CJ asked, raising her eyebrows. Her tone was incredibly disinterested, and I saw in my immediate future a trip to the parking lot.  
  
"They say you're parked in a reserved spot," I shrugged, repeating what the lot guard had told me on the phone.  
  
CJ shot me an annoyed look, and then rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I parked in the usual spot…Are they sure it's MY car?" she asked, tapping her pen on the desk.  
  
"1998 Silver Lexus SC 400? District tag 137884? Sounds like your car to me…" I grinned, trying to be light.  
  
CJ only groaned in response, and reached into her desk for something. "Why you spent sixty thousand dollars on a car is beyond me…," I added, trying to earn a smile, or any indication that today, right now, I was special to her.  
  
I was rewarded when CJ smiled self-indulgently and sat back, letting her head bob from side to side. "Hey, Baby, that thing goes from 0 to 60 in like, six seconds, has a 12 disc CD changer, rear spoiler, and Lexus chrome wheels!" she defended, sounding much like a show-room dealer. I laughed aloud, satisfied by her response. It was casual, it was under-professional, and for the moment I could be happy with it.  
  
"You don't have to convince me that it's impressive…but, are you moving the thing, or what?" I asked, cocking my head to the side, holding her gaze. Her face was all lines and symmetry. It was crushingly beautiful, I realized, knowing that at the moment, she knew so too.  
  
CJ pressed her lips together in a pretty smile, her lipstick shining in the sunlight. "No, you are," she crooned, winking quickly at me as she tossed her keys at me.  
  
I sighed happily, glad to get a flirt out of CJ. "Okay Miss Thing, but don't yell at me when you see my parking job," I teased, openly mocking her over-protection of the car.  
  
CJ scrunched up her nose, ready to mock me back. But suddenly her expression grew straight. "I trust you, Carol."  
  
***  
  
I walked out to the staff lot, unable to stop smiling, despite the unseasonably high temperature. Washington should never be 90 degrees in April, I thought with a smile, not really caring one bit. It was CJ instead… Just when I thought she was disregarding me at work, CJ went and called me 'baby'. She said she trusted me, she flirted with me. I chuckled softly, hating happily that CJ had power enough to tie me in knots. I had an instant urge to go hold her, tell her that I loved her… But for the moment, all I held were her car keys.  
  
The lot guard was standing by the Lexus, and when I got close enough, I saw that CJ's car was indeed parked in a spot reserved for visitors. I shook my head, and smiled at the guard.  
  
"You're moving Ms. Cregg's vehicle?" he asked congenially, unfolding his arms when I nodded affirmatively.  
  
I smiled at the uniformed man, and unlocked the car using the remote. He laughed, and we exchanged amused glances before I reached for the silver handle.  
  
The loud crash and crush was immediate, and the bursting explosion of glass hit my body and face before I had time to turn away. Glass was instantly everywhere: on the ground, in millions of pieces…in my eyes, on my face. With a disgusting mixture of light red blood and glass raining down, I stood open-mouthed and stunned.  
  
***  
  
"What the hell happened?"  
  
CJ's voice was all it took to coax me out of the daze I was in; the window of the Lexus had completely exploded when I'd opened the door; there was glass lying on the pavement, an incredible fifteen feet away. The security guard had immediately jumped to my aid, and now there were half a dozen Secret Service agents milling around the parking lot.  
  
I was sitting with the lot guard and a first aid kit. Only about five minutes had passed, but it was clear that I had glass in one of my eyes and cuts all over my face; I was still shaking from the surprising force of the window.  
  
"Carol, oh my God, what the…" CJ was as open-mouthed as I was, looking frantically back and forth between me, the glass, and the empty window of her car.  
  
"CJ, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do it, I didn't even touch the window, it just happened, and…" I rambled, cut off quickly by a Secret Service agent's upheld hand.  
  
"Ms. Cregg? The glass in the window exploded when your assistant opened the door…I'm pretty sure the heat inside the car had a lot to do with it, but we're checking out the area for any signs that this was something more."  
  
CJ narrowed her eyes in confusion, still looking at me as I dabbed a bit of blood from my cheek. "What do you mean 'something more'?"  
  
The agent shrugged. "Sometimes White House staffers are targets of violence." When a quick flash of horror dropped across CJ's expression, he shook his head. "Please, don't worry about it Ms. Cregg. It's just a precaution that we have to take. The President is yards away…"  
  
She nodded, her face pallid. "Okay…The heat could do that?" CJ shrieked in disbelief, her arms flailing out as she more closely inspected the car.  
  
The agent had turned away, but called over his shoulder. "I'll bet you had a piece of defective glass in that car…"  
  
CJ sighed and gave up on the car; there was clearly nothing left to the window but broken shards of tinted black glass. She walked over to me and knelt down. "Oh, Carol. You've gotta go see a doctor. Or something…. Shit," she mumbled, looking back at all the littered pavement.  
  
"I'm fine," I protested with half a heart; my eye was stinging, burning, and it was obvious to me that there was something sharp under the lid.  
  
"Bull shit," CJ said harshly, standing up and tugging me to my feet. I let her pull me up, the jabbing pain in my eye killing any defense I wanted to mount. This was one of those situations where it was simply easier to let CJ be CJ…  
  
***  
  
"Honey, wake up…" I heard, softly as she stroked my back. My right eye was practically sealed shut with the pain, but I was aware of being in CJ's big cushy bed. She and it were my only comforts.  
  
"Oh God," I groaned, bringing a hand to my intensely pained eye. I remembered quickly the trip to the hospital, the removal of all the glass from my eye, and the subsequent pain that the eye-drop medication had brought on. CJ had brought me home and coerced me into lying down; I hoped now that she'd returned to work, and I hoped the explosion had been nothing more than mis-produced glass and high temperatures. CJ couldn't be a target, I forced myself to think, it had was a precautionary idea…  
  
"Shh, you're okay," CJ said soothingly, brushing my bangs from my face as she leaned forward in concern.  
  
"Holy hell, it hurts," I suddenly moaned, closing my eye, unable to get away from the rushing sting. CJ squeezed my hand in support.  
  
"The doctor said it would. I got you up so I could give you more medicine…maybe you want food, Tylenol?" she asked, her tone slightly maternal. She could be so loving, I realized…  
  
I ignored the thought of food, thinking instead of other things. "You better not have stayed here all day…and shit, I have to call my mother."  
  
CJ snickered. "I worked from home, but I went over to your apartment and got you some things…your mother called when I was there."  
  
Horror shot through my chest, enough to rival the sting in my eye. "CJ, no. Tell me you didn't talk to her. She's on the list."  
  
CJ eyed me with confusion, pushing my hand gently away from my eye. "Don't rub it, sweetie. The list? What's that? And yeah, I did talk to her. We had a nice conversation, actually."  
  
"The list!" I shrieked, feeling hysterical. "The one that names people I no longer speak to!"  
  
"Carol, calm down. I don't have a list like that…" CJ grinned, stroking my hand slowly. "She was very suspicious, though. Wanted to know a lot of silly things."  
  
"Please say you didn't tell her we were together," I moaned again, instinctively leaning into CJ. As I buried my head against her shoulder, she chuckled and rubbed my back.  
  
"Let's not worry about your mother now, okay? I want to make sure you're all right. I know you can't see very well out of that eye…."  
  
As CJ went around the room, gathering tissues and the eye-dropper bottles, I boiled on the inside. I didn't care if my cornea was scratched, if the inside of my eye-lid was cut up—CJ shouldn't have told my mother shit! It was my place to do that, not CJ's. And who was she to talk to my mom? If CJ wouldn't talk to me, she surely shouldn't talk to anyone else!  
  
"CJ," I protested as she tilted my head up. "Stop it. I can't believe you told my mom…."  
  
"Carol, she asked me! She straight up asked me! What was I going to do? Lie?" CJ cried, her face smirking in a humorous revelation that there were no other options.  
  
I moved my head out of CJ's reach, stunned even further. "How could she? God, damn…" I growled, closing my eyes and bracing for the sharp stab. The pain in my eye was spreading to my head, and despite the scraping presence of my eye, I felt tears springing forth.  
  
"Carol…" CJ said softly, setting aside the bottles. She gathered me into her arms, and I wondered absently if she could be anything but perfect. "Carol, your mom is like my mom. Your mom IS my mom," she emphasized, pulling me tightly against her slightly wrinkled blouse. "So believe me when I tell you that she's not going to change. The only thing you can do is go about your business and do what you feel is right. You DO NOT need her acceptance—you only want it. And I know it's hard not to have it, but you should focus instead on this: you're a beautiful little girl who has someone right here, who wants you and loves you," CJ finished slowly, her voice dropping to almost a whisper.  
  
I was struck by her honesty, her openness, her emotion. She was really talking to me now, saying beautiful things, and it made the tears flow out of my eyes for a different reason. I wanted to say something, anything to let her know how much that love was returned…but I could only bite my lip and shudder with the rampant emotion running through me.  
  
"CJ…" I finally sighed, breathing slowly. The day had been so odd, so strange, so unexpected. Glass was running through my brain at excruciating speeds, and now CJ was mixing it up with her words and nearness; she was everything, everything, just simply everything….  
  
"Hmm?" she asked, her lips grazing my ear. A pleasant shiver was sent down my spine, and my heart was ready to explode.  
  
"You always have the words…" I said, the tears threatening more desperately.  
  
"Did you expect anything less?" CJ whispered, bringing my senses to an overload. I could hear her grin, and she was surrounding me, the pain in my eye distant now. As the saltiness rushed down my cheeks, I brushed my lips against her neck.  
  
"I never expected anything from you, CJ. Never this much…" I breathed out, trying to control my voice. CJ didn't respond, but I felt her smile against my ear. And later, when I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, she tucked me in, turned out the light, and kissed my forehead; "I'm here," she said quietly. "Expect that." * 


	4. Cradle Rocking

TITLE: Back Roads: Cradle Rocking  
  
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller  
  
PAIRING: CJ/Carol  
  
RATING: PG  
  
SUMMARY: For all of my wonderings about CJ's emotions, I had completely overlooked the one time and place where all I'd seen were raw, unadulterated feelings  
  
SPOILERS: "The Fall's Gonna Kill You"(minor), "Two Cathedrals"  
  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, how many times do I have to tell you? : )  
  
***  
  
I've seen CJ at her best and at her worst. I've seen CJ when she's putting the charm on and when she's ready to tear out the nearest person's hair. I was shocked out of my seat the first time I heard her yell—it was the sharp, do-as-I-say-or-else kind of yelling that makes a person sit up straight. And I was even more surprised the first time I saw her acting just plain sweet. She'd brought roses for Josh's birthday, presented them to him in front of the entire campaign staff, and gave a little speech that made eyes water.  
  
And that's where I'm left wondering—tears. CJ doesn't cry. I have never seen her cry. Ever. I know she gets sad because everyone gets sad, and when you're sad, you cry. But maybe CJ doesn't cry.  
  
Today is a day for musing, I decided, as I cautiously lounged around CJ's apartment. She insisted I stay here, let my eye rest, and even though the pain from the glass was only a recent memory, I indulged CJ's one request.  
  
I would have gone home, but I was afraid that my mother would call. She'd catch me off guard, I wouldn't be able to mount a credible defense, and there I would be, alone with the realization that my mother had beat me at my own game. So I stayed here, shamelessly hiding from her, in CJ's roomy apartment.  
  
I'd gotten past the guilty snooping that I was so prone to; in an hour I'd looked at CJ's healthy collection of bath gels and lotions, discovered her obvious penchant for MAC makeup, and decided that when I grew up, all of my office supplies would too be sorted. The words 'high maintenance' affectionately crossed my mind as I returned her engraved fountain pen back to its display.  
  
I realized, as I settled down on the floor in her living room, that I had a lot of faith in CJ. That frightened me, because I knew that beyond my ulterior notions about her, I didn't really know the woman.  
  
The night before she had told me that she loved me. It warmed my heart, but led my mind wandering towards the fork that divides the road of love and being IN love. Love was an extremely deep amount of caring. But being in love was something all together else. I was in love—I could hardly go a moment without thinking of CJ, and when I did, butterflies riveted around in me; I never wanted to be away from her, and when I had her close, couldn't imagine letting go. CJ was an all-consuming element in my life, and I could never go back from that.  
  
This morning she was on the phone early, yelling at whatever poor soul happened to answer the phone at the Lexus Corporation. They were apparently disinterested in honoring the warranty on her car, and her harsh tone filtered down the hallway and roused me out of bed.  
  
CJ looked absolutely abrasive as she sat perched on the edge of a stool in her kitchen, phone cradled between her head and shoulder, glasses on her nose. She was sharply groomed, ready to conquer the White House, yet unable to persuade the empty suit at Lexus that yes, indeed, she was a force to be reckoned with.  
  
Her sharp sigh and subsequent hang up indicated to me that she was already considering her next move, and when she looked up, I was leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Her pajamas were too big on me, and as they hung around my body, I reveled in wearing her clothes. They smelled like CJ, they felt just like her, and wearing the soft satin reminded me that this was all a crazy dream come true.  
  
CJ kissed me carefully, her lips soft and leaving behind a translucent red smudge. She poured me coffee and announced that she was going to have to pay for a new window herself. Perhaps kill some people while she was at it, CJ added, her humor covering up some of the annoyance I knew she was feeling. And me, she turned around and eyed me slowly, she was worried about me.  
  
I found it oddly reassuring that CJ seemed bothered. She sometimes seemed to be a shell, a just a body, one that possesses the wit and humor, edge and strength enough to get a good job done. But those things are not emotions, and when she hides behind the wall that they create, whatever else lies there is only drifting away. Still, when she turned to me and announced her worry, I saw the reality of her words in her eyes. Yes, it was there, and if only I could see it all the time…The thought was incomplete then, because it led to another—what would she be like, all the time uninhibited and emotional?  
  
***  
  
With music videos dancing across the television in front of me, I paged through CJ's In Style, Vogue and Vanity Fair magazines. They were virtually untouched, unwrinkled, and as I looked at each page carefully, I wondered if CJ only subscribed to them so she could realize her own glamour. Maybe she didn't even have a reason for getting them, except that she always had.  
  
As I closed the final glossy page, my mind wandered back to what it had tried long to forget. For all of my wonderings about CJ's emotions, I had completely overlooked the one time and place where all I'd seen were raw, unadulterated feelings oozing from her very presence.  
  
It was a year now, an entire twelve months, 365 days—any measure of time that one could use to mark a year—had passed. I only recently stopped letting the events of last spring consume my mind. That break-through was oddly reminiscent of the fact that there had been a time when twenty-four of my hours were taken up with scandal.  
  
And CJ. CJ had been wrought and wrecked by someone else's life, and it had been then when I realized that there was someone else behind her glitter and glaze. Not to say that I was un-tortured by the President's revelation that he had MS; I was jolted, rocked and shocked by the news. I took it especially hard among those not close to the President, for he had been my Governor for four years longer than most of these people had heard of Jed Bartlet. I had started a new life at sight of this beautiful, passionate, idealistic reformer whose words became my beliefs. Finding out he had lied was a day in darkness, but it was darker still for CJ.  
  
They hadn't told her last, but the President had not the courage to tell CJ himself. Leo instead called me personally, and asked to send CJ down to his office. It had been so late, and the days' brooding silence from Toby and Josh had given away everything: something was coming, and even I could see it. CJ grew nervous when I passed along the message, and I tried to reason aloud that it was nothing. She had only stood squarely in front of me, her expression resigned to the fact that nothing was always something.  
  
And so she went, down the hall towards Leo's office, with a tired "Carol, you can go home now," thrown over her shoulder. The night had been eerie, long and slow, and instead of waiting for CJ's fury or broken spirit, I tried to convince myself that she'd be better off alone.  
  
The next night, the First Lady coolly acknowledged me before knocking on the wooden doorframe; I still had no inkling to what was going on, but through the blinds I saw CJ dabbing at her eyes. There were no real tears, and so I can't say that she was crying. Still, the sight of two strong women clearly so distraught, so emotionally open, brought my heart to a twist. I clearly remember the violent urge I had to run through the door and demand to know what storm could be so intense…what could make CJ's façade break…  
  
  
  
The press conference was the climax of everything that had happened that week. Only a half-hour before, I had stood shoulder to shoulder with CJ, watching in wide-eyed unabashed horror as the President sat with his wife and admitted his one weakness. As soon as he was off the air, CJ went in and spoke to him, fighting to get through her most important message. She came out of the room deflated and defeated; I could almost feel her ready to burst, ready to explode.  
  
As we headed to the State Department, in the back of a chauffeured town car, CJ walked circles in my head. I tried but could not imagine how she would focus on the roomful of reporters there, just waiting to pounce on her every word. CJ sat hunched over in the car, her elbows on her knees, hands balled into fists as they covered her surely dry mouth. I wanted to touch her, to talk to her, but the rain was the only sound I could hear.  
  
I curled into my corner of the car and watched CJ sway slowly back and forth as she worked to calm the tumultuous wave that had come over us all. It soothed me only slightly to know that the bow had broken, we had fallen, but CJ was still a cradle rocking.  
  
***  
  
The Press Corp had multiplied tenfold and before she took the podium, CJ turned to me and quickly squeezed my hand.  
  
"I have to thank you for what you've done this week. I know how much he means to you," she said, looking at me through her glasses as she referred to the President, "but you're the only one who hasn't changed."  
  
I nodded, unsure if I should correct her mistaken inference. I was anything but changed, anything but unshaken by the news that my President had crumbled. I felt like I was drowning in the pieces of a shattered lie. But CJ had not seen that in me; she thought I had remained un-torn in the wake of a shredding knife. But more incredible was CJ's admission that she had been changed; she had been affected by the President's mistake, and the real, true CJ had been standing before me, a minute too soon for me to prepare.  
  
She was in front of that sea of sarcasm before I could consider what had passed. CJ fought her way through questions, hard and unanswerable questions, every few moments looking at me. I was watching for the President and his entourage, knowing that he would tell the truth tonight; he had to tell the truth now.  
  
***  
  
The shrill ring of the phone interrupted my reminiscing. I was reluctant to answer, not knowing if it would be someone looking for CJ. Still, it was probably CJ looking for ME, and so I answered tentatively.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Let me just tell you that I'm never ever letting you stay home again," CJ announced, brushing away my greeting with her trademark humor.  
  
I laughed in spite of the morose mood the memories had brought into me. "You a little lost without me, there?" I teased, taking kindly to her sugary voice streaming into my ear.  
  
"You bet I am. But I've had help. Donna has been running up and down the hall faster than I thought humanly possible. I was thinking about getting my video camera, but decided it would take too much time away from figuring out how to kill the Lexus people."  
  
I laughed again, listening to the typicality of CJ's rising defenses. She couldn't talk about how stressful her day was, she couldn't really let me know how much she wanted me there, needed me there… "CJ, don't joke," I sighed, letting the bitter taste that hid behind the sweetness filter into my brain. "Be serious for a minute."  
  
She said nothing for five seconds, five seconds that felt like hours. "Sorry…I, uh, just wanted to see if you were doing all right."  
  
"I'm fine. I can come in if you need me to."  
  
"No," she quickly responded, "you're resting today. And I'm bringing home Chinese for dinner. Is that okay?"  
  
"CJ, can we talk later?" I asked, the pressure building. She had to know how I was feeling.  
  
Silence filled the line, and then CJ was clearing her throat. If she were uncomfortable, she covered it up. She was probably uncomfortable, I deduced. "Yeah, sure, we can talk later…Listen, sweetie, I have to go. Call me if you need anything."  
  
I hung up the phone, mentally kicking myself. I was with the finest woman that I'd ever laid eyes on, the most beautiful picture of perfection I could imagine, and here I was, trying to start a thing.  
  
Not a fight, mind you, I was not trying to start a fight. The curiosity, the want, the underlying NEED to know exactly what CJ couldn't let come to a head was fueling my actions; I didn't want to make waves in our relationship—it was a good relationship. It was. It was, I kept telling myself, and then I would wonder if it could be better.  
  
It was a paradox, I thought, that I could be with CJ and be slightly unsatisfied. I didn't want to admit that, because having her in my life as more than my boss was a feat I had never really considered. It was a fantasy, a guilty pleasure, a dream that could never be. Craving more from her than simply what she gave seemed like too large of a request. Yet a part of me knew that I deserved to have all of CJ, and not just small concessions of her.  
  
Fractions added up to one whole piece, and briefly I wondered if I too were hidden like CJ. Did I become real for only fractions of time? I would make CJ tell me later, after I found out just how real she could be. * 


	5. Cradle Falling

TITLE: Back Roads: Cradle Falling  
  
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller  
  
PAIRING: CJ/Carol  
  
RATING: PG  
  
SUMMARY: "I never meant to be the wrong thing."  
  
SPOILERS: None  
  
***  
  
We don't turn away from ourselves. We only turn away from others.  
  
We can't turn away from ourselves. We can't run that far, we can't fly that high. The only means of escaping ourselves come in death, and I've never considered that possibility. But now you've confronted me with the core of what I've feared, of what I still fear. Myself.  
  
You didn't see me because I didn't want you to. I was ashamed of myself, of the fact that it took me forty years to decide what I was. And you—so young, with the entire world ahead—you sat in the shadows, knowing everything you wanted to know while I stepped into the spotlight and played the power game.  
  
I couldn't let you see through me; I couldn't shatter the image you held of me. Imagine how it feels to be on the pedestal and know that you don't deserve the honor. Try looking at someone you care about, knowing they see you as unbreakable, untouchable, inimitable—perfect. Then try holding in your hands the truth: none of it is real; it was all an act.  
  
To drop the pretension in an instant would be impossible. I've become accustomed to hiding from the world; my job requires it. You understand that, don't you? I can try to show you what I am, but the truth is, Carol…I've never been able to do that before.  
  
I've blamed it all on my job, my parents, my siblings, the other person…but reality sinks in now. It's only been me. I am to blame for any failure in my life.  
  
You make me happy. You make me see that I can't hide forever. And you don't deserve what I've given you. You deserve more, and if I accept myself, it's only because you told me it was okay to do that. You're the only one who's done that, Carol…  
  
***  
  
CJ said all of those things to me, and then she said thank you. I was left entirely speechless—amazed that she'd admitted so much at my one simple request that she tell me what she was feeling.  
  
I had come to expect more silence than chatter from CJ. Silence meant she was unhappy but unwilling to talk about it. Something tonight made her grow comfortable enough to give away her weaknesses, and the silence was broken.  
  
She wasn't confident, she wasn't sure of herself. She wasn't ready to admit that she couldn't love a man. And she couldn't, CJ cried, her eyes shining with unshed tears, she couldn't love a man. There, I said, you've admitted it. Even to me. And that's okay; that's all you needed to do…  
  
But it wasn't just to me. CJ once told her own mother that she was attracted to the 'wrong' sex. The result had been disastrous, forcing her to put up the wall—that same wall she's been using ever since. She hadn't allowed herself to fall in love again. Not until now. She'd been hurt until now—I could hardly fathom it, and yet CJ was telling me so.  
  
"I just want it to be simple," CJ pleaded, grabbing my hands as we faced each other on the sofa. "I want to drop my defenses," she added with a sigh.  
  
I felt like I'd won a race, and it bothered me to be proud of that. But CJ had opened up to me, opened up more than she ever had. Knowing I'd been able to bring that out comforted me and placated the worry in my head—our relationship was not breaking or slowly cracking. Still, complexities lurked. I could not force CJ to tell me all of them, but hearing her divulge just some of her fears was affirmation plenty.  
  
I was waiting for her to cry, and though she did not, I still felt our emotional bond. CJ was tired, and once she shed her skin, it was easy allowing me to tuck her into bed. Warmth, comfort and the kind of sleep I know she craved—that was all I wanted for CJ. I was satisfied by those few moments of unabashed honesty that flew from her lips, that had poured out of her heart.  
  
"Carol," CJ murmured as I sat on the edge of her bed, gently stroking her back, "I never meant to be the wrong thing."  
  
I could tell that CJ was sleepy, and her eyes were closed as she lay in the cocoon of sheets and blankets. I imagined that she didn't quite know what she was saying, and so I simply ran my fingers through her hair.  
  
"You could never be the wrong thing, CJ. You never were."  
  
She opened up one of her eyes, and then the other. A smile moved over her lips and then she sat up, shaking her head in a sweet disbelief. "If you believe it, I hope it's true."  
  
I leaned forward and quickly kissed her unsuspecting lips. "I love you. Go to sleep."  
  
CJ watched me, keeping her eyes riveted to mine as I got off of her bed and headed towards the door. I would go home, and call my mother. For if CJ were really just a cradle falling, maybe my mother could hear the truth and accept it, too. * 


	6. Barely In Belief

TITLE: Back Roads: Barely in Belief  
  
AUTHOR: Kansas J. Miller  
  
PAIRING: CJ/Carol  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
SUMMARY: I wasn't sure that I could take another shock, and as I sat staring back at CJ's lined and tired face, I wondered when I'd regain control of my jaw  
  
SPOILERS: "Enemies Foreign and Domestic"  
  
***  
  
I was thinking about New Hampshire today, wondering if the trees were in full bloom yet. The end of April and the beginning of May used to be the most beautiful time of year in Nashua, unless you asked my mother. She loved the crazy fall foliage and the blinding snow that sometimes came as early as October. She liked to bundle up in a big sweater and two pairs of socks, and she wasn't afraid of the icy roads. I lived for the spring, which would inevitably fade into a gorgeous summer. But we were always different like that.  
  
I spoke to my mother on Sunday night and while the conversation was extremely stilted, it was a conversation nonetheless. She wouldn't—couldn't—say the words; she wouldn't admit to herself that her own daughter was gay. The conversation didn't even touch that; it was ignored. My mother acted as if I had never offered her my most personal truth, though the catch in her voice told me that her heart was broken. As well, her blinders to acceptance were on—silent and piercing. But she spoke to me, and that was more than I'd expected.  
  
She told me about her latest patients at the hospital and talked about my father's newest projects at his construction company. She told me about her friends and how all of the nurses from the hospital were taking a trip to New York in May. But she couldn't say the words that were on both of our minds.  
  
The closest we came to talking about it came at the end of the conversation. "Carol, whoever you're with, I want you to be happy."  
  
"Yeah, Mom. I'm happy," I replied, not sure if she knew that our definitions of 'happy' were different. Always different. Never the same. We were never the same and never would be.  
  
She didn't accept it; she didn't want to acknowledge it. She couldn't agree with the idea of two women loving each other, just as she loved my father. But she wanted me to be happy, and wasn't that enough?  
  
No, it wasn't enough. But it was all there was. I had to live my own life, and she had to live hers. CJ kept asking me what it mattered that my mother—miles away from here—didn't approve of whom I loved. I hadn't been able to come up with an answer to that. I wanted her approval, though I knew I'd never have it. It was a paradox, and unless I changed my mother without changing myself, it would remain so.  
  
***  
  
Monday wasn't a good day. CJ literally went off on the Press Corp. Granted she had every right to, although technically… she didn't. I knew CJ would take some heat for it, but it wasn't enough to warm away the chills her stone cold voice had brought to my spine. She had been absolutely ruthless, the low-toned sarcasm more powerful than all of the screaming and yelling in the world.  
  
Leo didn't like it—that much I heard through Donna, from Josh. But it was CJ. And CJ has no tolerance for the way they treat women in the Mid- East. She simply wouldn't stand by and keep her mouth closed, especially when there was such a big microphone in front of her every day. Leo didn't come by, and for that much, I respected the man. He knew where the line was drawn with CJ.  
  
I shared in CJ's feelings, though I wasn't so passionate, so explicitly angry when I heard of news like the Saudi fire. I couldn't really do much, but CJ was a force, a face you did not want to get in. I stayed quiet about the subject, knowing words from me wouldn't make CJ any less angry, any less hurt by the ignorance of the world.  
  
I was sad for CJ, too, not because she had the guts to say what she felt was right, but because no one ever seemed to hear her. Everyone's first concern was if she'd pissed off Saudi Arabia, hurt some fragile feelings that would lead to greater tension. I only shook my head in disbelief; there was not a thing in the world that could make Middle Eastern tension any heavier; there was not a thing CJ could scream at the top of her lungs that would make it worse. Of course, some part of me knew that CJ couldn't make it better, either. She only hurt herself I know she won't stop trying.  
  
***  
  
Monday got worse before it got better. Angry faxes and annoyed e-mail poured in, but I didn't know about the death threat until Donna came to me in the early evening.  
  
"Carol," Donna whispered loudly, shaking me out of my concentration. I turned around to find her, wide-eyed and curious at my door. "What did the Secret Service guy say?"  
  
I raised an eyebrow, ready to laugh at Donna's urgent tone. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"Josh had me call Jack Kinney. They said he was coming up to see CJ about her e-mail. I just wanted to know what happened," Donna explained quickly, looking suspiciously at CJ's closed door.  
  
"Yeah, I still have no idea what you're talking about, Donna," I said, the humor gone from my attitude. Donna's tone and her serious countenance had me suddenly concerned.  
  
"CJ didn't show you the death threat she got in her e-mail?" Donna asked in surprise, leaning forward towards me as her tone dropped even lower.  
  
"No!" I said with force, shocked at the revelation. "Are you kidding me?" I asked, instantly annoyed that CJ had not, in fact, shared the e-mail with me.  
  
"Yeah, a couple hours ago, we were going to go out for yogurt. CJ mentioned her e-mail and showed me one in particular. She wasn't taking it seriously, so I told Josh," Donna filled me in, shaking her head with authority.  
  
I sat back in my chair and turned away, a bit upset and baffled. "I had no idea…"  
  
Donna touched my shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she said softly. "I thought you knew, that's all."  
  
I looked up at Donna, sure that I should have known. "Thanks," I said with a sigh, feeling fiercely protective of CJ and angry with her all in one flash. "I guess know now."  
  
***  
  
When I arrived at the office on Tuesday morning, someone was in CJ's office tinkering with her computer while she looked on, clearly uneasy.  
  
"What's going on?" I whispered loudly, coming up behind CJ. She spun around quickly as surprise registered on her face.  
  
"Where the hell did you go last night? I was looking for you!" CJ cried, keeping her voice intentionally lower for the man behind the desk.  
  
I swallowed, positioning myself to hold ground. "I went home," I said in the sturdiest voice I had, knowing the conversation wasn't over. CJ's eyes crinkled as she narrowed her eyebrows in concern.  
  
Leaning forward a bit, her face too close to mine, she bit her lip. "You didn't want to see me last night?"  
  
Her tone wasn't angry, but briefly accusatory before it turned into hurt. I sucked in a breath, prepared to lay it out. At the last minute, I took a different path. "Yeah, and it was totally immature. Don't worry about it."  
  
"I'm through with your computer now, Ms. Cregg. Sorry for the interruption," the man behind CJ's desk said as he stood up. Politely nodding as he left, CJ barely acknowledged the man before turning back to me.  
  
"I do worry about it," CJ said vehemently, frowning as I stepped past her and moved towards the desk.  
  
"I want to see this death threat that Donna told me about," I announced, brushing away her concern, aware and resolute of the fact that if I couldn't say it, CJ wasn't going to read my mind.  
  
***  
  
On Wednesday, CJ was eerily quiet, especially after her meeting in the Oval Office. By lunchtime, on the third day of this week of insane weeks, I couldn't take it anymore. I entered her office unannounced, and knowing CJ was alone, spoke right up.  
  
"CJ, you have to tell me what's going on. And I mean RIGHT NOW," I said, my eyes surely flashing a warning.  
  
CJ's mouth dropped a little, but she shut her notebook and watched me sit down. I felt a little guilty, as she looked sweet and somewhat vulnerable in the white suit she'd worn to work. I waited on her reaction, wondering what was going on in her mind.  
  
"Yeah, Carol, I don't know how this is going to play out, but it's not going to be smooth sailing from here," CJ finally smirked, shaking her head in a quiet disbelief.  
  
"What do you mean?" I asked, propelling my body forward with a desperation that I could feel in my toes.  
  
CJ was staring at her desk, but quickly recovered. "The President is assigning me Secret Service protection," she said bluntly, the edges of her eyes smudging black as she rubbed vigorously.  
  
I was dumbfounded, formerly unaware that this situation was so serious. I knew I was sitting openmouthed like an idiot, but each time I searched for the right words, I came up blank. CJ shook her head again, still rubbing her eyes.  
  
"I know what you're thinking—that there isn't a threat. But there were…there were these pictures," CJ said, her voice barely audible, her tone barely there. "I had no choice," she finally added, not looking at me, but at her lap.  
  
"CJ…" stuttered, thoroughly rocked with the fear that someone could be stalking her so closely. "Oh my God."  
  
"I don't want it…" CJ looked out the window, unwilling to meet my eyes. Her voice had grown emotionless, a sure sign that she was hiding so much of it. "You know what this means, don't you?"  
  
I swallowed hard, still fighting to process all of the new information I had to take in. "Well it means a lot of things," I said through my closing throat. "I mean, God, you have to take the protection, CJ."  
  
"I am," she brushed away the thought with her hand. For another moment, CJ sat staring out the window, and suddenly she swiveled her chair towards me. Gesturing between us, CJ met my eyes. "Carol, we're not going to be able to do this for a while."  
  
I wasn't sure that I could take another shock, and as I sat staring back at CJ's lined and tired face, I wondered when I'd regain control of my jaw. "What?" I managed, feeling numb through and through.  
  
CJ had channeled her professionalism and folded her arms in a very authoritative manner. "First of all, I am not putting you in any danger that is meant for ME. I'm just not going to do that to you. Second, Carol, no one can know about us," CJ practically spat, rolling her eyes as though I'd overlooked an obvious two plus two equation.  
  
As paralyzing as our exchange had left me, I still forced out a defense. "That makes no sense to me, CJ. Who cares if a Secret Service agent knows that you're fucking another woman!?"  
  
A quick flash of hurt crossed CJ's features, but no deeper than the hurt running around my head. She raised her chin up in defiance. "Carol, if someone can take pictures of me walking out of my apartment, they can certainly catch other things on film. I don't want this in the newspaper, and if you don't understand the importance of that…"  
  
"I understand it fine, CJ," I shot, standing up. "But you're not scaring me away so easily. Get a grip and let me know when you do."  
  
With that, and more forced bravado than I really had, I turned away from CJ. I shut the heavy door behind me with more bang than was necessary, simultaneously proud and ashamed of what I'd just done.  
  
I stood, my back against the silent door, for five long minutes. Running my fingers quickly through my hair, I looked around and took a deep breath. Barely in belief of this day, this situation, of myself, I swallowed resolutely. Fine, I decided with a sardonic smirk, I understand it fine. * 


End file.
